by Nikki Chase
This has to bode well for me, right ?
Mom, who’s sitting next to me, squeezes my hand and smiles, sensing my predicament .
When everyone’s finished eating, Mom, Fraser, and I clear the table while the conversation at the table continues .
At the sink, Mom turns to stare at Fraser. “Are your parents going to be okay . . . you know, Emma . . . seeing the five of you ?”
Fraser flicks his gaze between the two of us then glances at the table. “Oh, right. Nobody’s said anything yet. Sorry, I almost forgot .”
Mom and I exchange looks .
“You have nothing to worry about.” Fraser licks the cranberry sauce on his fingers and turns on the tap to wash his hands .
Then, grinning, he puts his hands on my shoulders and leads me back to the dining table. “Mom, Dad, sorry nobody mentioned this before, but Emma here is the girl we’re seeing. We absolutely love her, and she loves us, too . . . I think .”
Mr. and Mrs. Archer share a confused look. Then, she asks, “Who’s ‘we ?’”
“All of us,” Austin says without any hesitation .
“All five of you?” Mr. Archer asks .
The five brothers nod .
Mr. and Mrs. Archer share another look as my heart hammers so hard my body’s shaking. Fraser squeezes my shoulders and plants a kiss on my cheek .
Mrs. Archer looks me straight in the eye and says, “Well, aren’t you a lucky girl.” She laughs .
“I wouldn’t say that so quickly.” Mr. Archer’s deep voice grips my heart with fear. Then, he adds, “These boys are a handful. They’re so much trouble we have to run away most of the year just to avoid the headache .”
As laughter fills the house, tension melts away from my body, and I laugh along with them—my first real laughter since Mr. and Mrs. Archer got home .
“See? I told you it would be fine,” Hudson says, standing up beside me and rubbing my arm .
“Aww . . . Honey, were you worried what we’d think?” Mrs. Archer asks .
“Yes, Mrs. Archer,” I answer .
“Please, call me Holly,” she says. “And call my husband Nick. I think it’s wonderful that my sons have found someone they love .”
“Thanks, Holly,” I say .
“We believe everyone should do whatever they want, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else,” Nick says. “Besides, with names like ours, it would be practically illegal to do anything other than spread some cheer on Christmas night .”
“Also, I know how good my boys are at sharing. You underestimate how often I walk in on people doing things I’d rather not see.” Holly winks at me, making me blush. She holds her arms out in welcome. “Now, come over here .”
I walk around the table and let Holly and Nick give me a big hug. Tears spring to my eyes at their acceptance. Holly rubs my back and gives me a light peck on my cheek. “Welcome to the family, Emma .”
“Thank you.” I wipe the tears dripping down my cheeks with the back of my hand and give them both a big smile .
“Now, how about some Christmas songs?” Holly asks the room .
“Oh, we have some tracks on the stereo,” I say, heading toward the smartphone dock that’s connected to the sound system .
“Who needs a stereo when there’s a piano?” Holly grins, which makes her look a lot like Fraser .
She takes my hand and pulls me into the living room, where a piano has been sitting in one corner, unused and forgotten, the whole time I’ve been living here. As everyone gathers around, Holly takes a seat, opens the cover, and the piano comes to life .
I’ve known these songs my whole life, but I’ve never enjoyed them this way before, with live music and a happy family singing together. Even Rocky curls up at her feet and seems to sway to the music—or maybe that’s just my imagination .
As I sing and look around the room, gratitude fills my chest to the point of almost bursting. I feel so lucky—not because I’m dating five men at once like Holly mentioned jokingly, but because my life is filled with so much love .
I’ve never known life to be this happy before, and I’m almost scared to get used to this for fear that it may disappear one day. But as I gaze at Austin, Ian, Sandy, Hudson, and Fraser, I know their love for me is something I can count on .
This is my life now, and I can’t imagine anything better .
* * *
T hank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed Emma and the Archer brothers’ story .
Want more ?
There’s Ava’s story, where five brothers protect and defend her from a vengeful ex. Click here to get The Five Brothers Next Door from Amazon .
You can also read all about Emma’s friend, Piper. She’s a broke college student who can’t pay her rent. When her billionaire landlord, Raphael, asks her to pretend to be his fiancée, she has no choice but to agree. Click here to get Virgin Fiancée from Amazon .
Virgin Fiancée is also available in the Billionaires and Bad Boys Box Set , which contains SEVEN stand-alone (but related) romances and a bonus exclusive, never-before-published novelette, featuring all seven couples from the stories included in the box set :
Guilty
Stripped
His Virgin
Billionaire Protector
Virgin Fiancée
Single Dad’s Fake Bride
The Billionaire’s Bride
Bonus Novelette: After the Happily Ever After …
Click here to get the Billionaires and Bad Boys Box Set .
* * *
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Preview: The Five Brothers Next Door
A Reverse Harem Romance
Prologue
Ava
I nuzzle my face into Liam’s chest and mewl happily. He’s so warm and it feels cold outside the covers. I don’t want to leave the bed .
I feel Ollie stir behind me. “Hi, Ava,” he says in a hoarse, sleepy voice .
“Morning, Ollie .”
Ollie scoots closer to wrap his arm around me, spooning me. He moves my hair aside and comes closer, putting his lips right up against the back of my neck. “Morning, Ava .”
I gasp as a jolt of pleasure shoots from my sensitive neck, all the way down to my core .
I have two men in my bed. Two strong, gorgeous, sexy, men who are obviously into me, too .
This early in the morning, my brain seems to still be asleep. But my nerve endings aren’t. I can feel every little breath of Ollie’s that falls on my skin, and it kindles a hungry flame inside me .
“Do you like that, Ava?” Liam asks as he stares intently at me, his hungry eyes studying me .
“Yeah.” I bite down on my bottom lip to muffle a moan that’s threatening to escape .
“I can make it feel even better.” Liam smirks as he puts his hand on my hip, under the covers .
Liam keeps his gaze on my face, waiting for any sign of my disapproval. Seeing none, he drags his hand up my abdomen, slipping under my shirt. His fingers find my nipple already hard and erect. The smirk on his face grows wider .
Liam kneads my breasts as Ollie’s hand on my stomach pulls me back until I feel his hard morning wood poking against my butt cheeks .
It doesn’t take long until I can’t stifle my voice anymore. My lips part, letting my sighs and moans out .
“Lift up your hands, Ava,” Ollie says as he pulls my shirt up from the back .
I don’t sleep with a bra on, so as soon as the shirt comes off I’m naked from the waist up and lying on my side—not exactly a flattering angle for my breasts. Gravity does strange things to them when I’m in this position .
Still, Liam doesn’t seem to mind. He shoots me a hungry smile as he kisses my throat and moves down to the valley between my breasts .
As L
iam latches onto my nipple, Ollie’s hand wanders south and slips under the waistband of the sweatpants I wear to bed .
I gasp when his fingers find my lower lips. Instinctively, I arch my back, which only pushes my ass back against his hard package behind me .
“You’re wet,” Ollie whispers from behind me. “You like being with two guys at the same time, Ava ?”
I want to shake my head, but Ollie would know I’m lying. My panties are drenched .
“Yeah.” My voice comes out in a sigh that’s heavily laced with arousal .
Suddenly, we hear three knocks on the door and stop, looking at one another .
It’s most likely the other Hunter brothers behind that door, and they’ve probably heard my want-filled moans . . .
Are they joining us ?
Do I want them to ?
Ava
I wasted three years of my life with a loser. Three precious years I’ll never get back. Even by my standards, what happened with Joseph was bad .
I don’t know why I have such bad luck with men. It’s not that I’m hideous and nobody wants me .
I have long, silky chestnut hair and almond-shaped green eyes, both of which get me regular compliments. I wish I was taller, but I’ve been told I have a proportional body .
Yes, I’ve put on a little bit of weight over summer holiday, but I can still fit into my clothes, although I’ll admit they’re a little tight .
I do get some male attention, but . . . I don’t know, I’m just not into the men who like me, and the men I like aren’t into me .
My mom says I’m too picky. She says when she was my age, she was already pregnant with me. She’s always been very domestic, my mom. And competitive .
She probably would’ve had more children if it weren’t for her endometriosis, which she got not long after giving birth to me. She tells me she cried and wailed in her doctor’s office he told her the disease had gotten so bad a hysterectomy was medically necessary .
Maybe that’s why she wants me to get married and pop out babies ASAP. I’m only twenty-one, but that also means my mom’s been waiting for twenty-one years to have another baby in the family .
That’s one of the big reasons why I stayed with Joseph for so long, actually: because my mom liked him. She still does, which kind of makes me angry .
I mean, she’s my mom; she’s supposed to be on my side .
I could forgive her when I was still with Joseph, because I didn’t tell her what he was like. But now that she knows, I’m having trouble understanding why she still wants me to be with him .
In short, Joseph was incredibly insecure and controlling .
The long version could take forever, but let me list off a small sample of his most grievous offenses :
We went clubbing and I drank too much. I got lightheaded and asked him to drive me home, so he did. But I wished I’d taken a cab instead because he berated me for ruining his night out the whole way home .
During a vacation in a nearby coastal town, I got my period and he sulked for the entire three-day trip like it was my fault we couldn’t go snorkeling or have sex. I remember sitting on the beach with the water lapping at me, wishing a shark would smell my blood and wander over to take a bite. Anything would’ve been better than listening to Joseph’s incessant complaints .
We bickered all the time, over the smallest things. He used to yell at me, grab my wrist so I couldn’t escape stressful situations (I’ve never liked conflicts), and punch the wall. He was careful never to show his mean side in public, though .
Whenever I tried to break up with him (and I did try—many times), he subjected me to multiple hours of him crying and pleading for yet another chance. A few times, he even slapped himself in the face, again and again, until I capitulated .
So he didn’t cheat on me or anything, but he was like a spoiled kid. He didn’t take good care of his toy—me—but when he thought he was going to lose the toy, he threw tantrums until he got his way .
Hey, maybe that’s why my mom likes Joseph so much. He’s basically a big baby, and she’s always wanted more babies .
It’s been one month since the last time I told Joseph it was over. Still, he continues to harass me, asking me to move back into our old shared rental house, trying to lure me with the stuff I left behind .
It’s laughable, really. I’m not going back there to pick up my ratty T-shirt. Not when there’s a good chance it’s just an excuse to rope me into yet another one of his dramatic outbursts .
So yeah, in summary, I’ve learned a lot from my first serious relationship .
The scariest lesson of all, though? Apparently, I’m a terrible judge of character .
When I first met Joseph, I thought I’d hit the jackpot on my first try .
He was kind, funny, and smart. At the young age of twenty-six, he was a successful lawyer, too. He courted me with freshly-cut roses, candle-lit dinners, and long walks on the beach .
It took less than three months for me to move in with him, and my mom couldn’t have been happier. She was already buying pregnancy kits and flipping through baby-name books .
Looking back, my mom’s excitement made me feel trapped and claustrophobic. Maybe that should’ve been a red flag, a big, flashing sign telling me I should’ve moved back out right away .
But if I start thinking that way, there’d be no end to it .
Maybe I shouldn’t have moved in, in the first place. Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to enter an exclusive relationship with Joseph. Maybe I shouldn’t have accepted the cosmopolitan he bought me at Feral, the bar where we first met .
It’s hard not to have regrets, though, because I’m paying for every single one of those mistakes now .
Joseph’s been blowing up my phone at all hours, bombarding me with text messages and phone calls. I’ve blocked his number, but he keeps trying with different numbers—by borrowing other people’s phones, by using cheap Skype numbers, and even by using payphones .
Lately, I’ve been turning off my phone at night because otherwise I’d never sleep through the night. I’ve also disabled the doorbell because sometimes he just appears on my doorstep, demanding to be let inside .
I dread the day he shows up at the high school where I teach. Feels like it’s just a matter of time until that happens .
Joseph’s texts have been getting more and more unhinged. I get the feeling he’s just going to get even worse .
Like an experienced storm chaser, I recognize the signs before disaster actually strikes. That’s just one of the useless skills I’ve gained after three years of walking on eggshells, trying not to upset him in any way .
I pick up my phone from my desk to read the text messages I got earlier today .
Joseph: I’m coming home early from work today
Joseph: I remember when I used to run errands for you on a day like this
Joseph: Like when I bought some Spanish textbooks for you
Joseph: Or when I filled up your gas tank
Joseph: Or when I got you flowers on the way home
I roll my eyes. It’s been years since he last bought me flowers .
I scan the classroom to check that all my students are working on the test I’m giving them today. Most of them are still hunched over their little desks, writing furiously. For a moment, I wonder if future generations are going to be horrified when they find out just how unergonomic school desks and chairs used to be .
I turn my attention back to my phone. The next few messages from Joseph were sent a couple of hours after those initial ones, and they have a completely different tone .
Joseph: I spent so much money on you
Joseph: I really love you and you’re just throwing everything away
Joseph: Didn’t I give you enough ?
Joseph: What about the $3k I spent on that dress you liked so much ?
Joseph: Or the $1.5k shoes you wore to meet my parents ?
Joseph: I can’t believe I thought you were the on
e
Joseph: You’re nothing but a gold digger
Anger boils within me, making me shake like I’m about to erupt. But there’s an entire class of sophomores in front of me right now, and they’re quietly working on a test. A meltdown is not a good idea right now .
As their teacher, I’m supposed to be a good role model. A good role model doesn’t slam her desk and yell about what an asshole her ex-boyfriend is .
I probably shouldn’t be a teacher in the first place, but this is not the time to think about that. I don’t have any brain power left to worry about my career path .
My wrath flows down my arms and into my fingers. My thumbs are frozen over the phone screen, ready to deny the accusations that have been leveled against me .
I mean, what kind of a gold digger never asks for anything? I clearly remember telling Joseph those gifts were too expensive and I didn’t need them, but he didn’t listen. He said he was making good money and he wanted to spend it on me .
I start to type .
Ava: If I knew those gifts came with strings, I would’ve
Would’ve what? Thrown them in his face? Burned them to a crisp ?
My thumbs hover over the keyboard on the little screen. As I consider my options, I scan the classroom full of young, impressionable minds .
Maybe I should strive to be a better person. I have a shiny, new job. It’s the perfect time to reinvent myself .
Also, it’s probably not a good idea to let myself be dragged into an argument. I shouldn’t stoop down to Joseph’s level .
Rise above , I tell myself .
I decide on a shorter, less angry message .
Ava: I’ll pay you back .
I don’t normally put a period at the end of my text message. I know it’s a small, passive-aggressive gesture Joseph will probably miss, but it feels good to type it out and send it .
That little dot also helps me stop myself from sending another message—something immature like “screw you .”